


Vindico

by msimamizizam



Series: Bloodborne NPCs [4]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Child Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV Second Person, Reader is hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13175070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msimamizizam/pseuds/msimamizizam
Summary: "If you're a hunter, then... please, will you look for my mum?""Of course I will," you responded after barely a second of deliberation.And thus, the tragedy of the only children left in Central Yharnam began at the hands of someone who just wanted to keep them safe.





	Vindico

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know of any edits, formatting issues, missed tags, or any other improvements I can make, and don't forget leave kudos and comments if you liked it!

A music box was playing somewhere. It took you off guard when the faint chiming reached your ears. After all the beasts howling, trolls groaning, and the clashing of steel, it seemed like such a soft noise didn't belong echoing through the streets of Yharnam.   
  
You looked up at the ledge above, stepping to the side as the ogre you’d just killed fell to the ground. You wiped its blood off on your coat, squinting your eyes at the dim light streaming through one of the windows up above. Someone was still home, but... who would be playing a music box, on this night of all nights?   
  
You gripped the smooth iron of the ladder and tried to keep your eyes above as you climbed. You pulled yourself over the top, looking up at the house. A light flickered behind the window, and a lantern glowed outside it. You could smell incense wafting through the open window, and hear the music box, still chiming the same tune.   
  
"Hello?" You called out, trying to peer through the curtains. Past the chains and iron cage protecting the glass, you saw a small collection of colorful glass bottles on the window sill inside. You reached through the bars to knock on the glass. "Is anyone in there?"   
  
The box slowly wound down, and you heard small footsteps slowly come closer to you. So someone was inside. You waited patiently as something scraped against wood inside, then creaked as something was put on it. You narrowed your eyes, trying to study the faint shapes behind the curtain.   
  
"Who... are you?" The voice was tiny, delicate... a child, then. The curtain rustled, and through the gap, you caught a glimpse of yellow curls and a pale nightgown with white lace. Who let any child live in a city like this, especially one so young? "I don't know your voice, but I know that smell... Are you a hunter?"   
  
"Yes," you said, softening your voice when you heard a small yawn. "Did I wake you? I'm awfully sorry. I know it can be hard to sleep with all the beasts around."   
  
"It's okay," she replied, even as she yawned through her words. You saw the silhouette of her arm raise as she rubbed her eyes. "If you're a hunter, then... please, will you look for my mum? Daddy never came back from the hunt, and she went to find him, but now she's gone, too... I'm all alone... and scared."   
  
The girl's voice trembled and cracked as she teared up. You narrowed your eyes at the sheer curtains, at her quaking silhouette. Who would leave their child alone, on a night like this? A part of you hoped you didn't find this woman, for her own sake, so she'd escape you giving her a piece of your mind, but at the same time, you didn't want the girl to be by herself.   
  
"Of course I will," you responded after barely a second of deliberation. The little girl gasped and clapped her hands excitedly as you bowed to her.   
  
"Really? Oh, thank you! Wait, don’t go yet. I mustn't forget to give you this...." She trailed off as she disappeared deeper into the house, leaving you alone on the other side.   
  
You stood there for a moment, then jolted when a tiny hand suddenly stuck itself out through the gap in the curtains. It held a small cube with delicate decorations on the sides. You slowly reached through the bars and took it from her, turning it over in your hands. It was heavier than you expected it to be, but it didn't rattle when you shook it, except for the lid popping up. You lifted it up, then smiled when the same chiming that had drawn you to the girl filled the air. This was her music box.   
  
"If you find my mum, give her this. It plays one of daddy's favorite songs," the girl explained, drawing her hand back inside to the safety of the house. She shifted on her chair, the uneven legs bumping against the floorboards as she adjusted. "And when daddy forgets us we play it for him so he remembers. Mum's so silly, running off without it!"   
  
"I'll make sure she gets it," you promised, running your thumb over the discolored paper pinned to the underside of the lid. Whatever had been written there had long since faded, except for two names that still stood out, however faintly. Gascoigne- the father, then, since Viola would be the mother. Now you at least knew the names who you'd be judging harshly for leaving a child all alone.   
  
"My mum wears a red jeweled brooch. It's so big, a-and beautiful," she added, tripping over her words. "You won't miss it. Please, I know you can do it." You nodded, watching her small hand reach through the gap in the curtains and wave good-bye to you.   
  
"Go back to sleep, little one," you ordered softly. "I'll be here when you wake up." You watched her shadow as she nodded and scooted off the chair, disappearing into the house. You closed the music box and tucked it into your bag, the last chimes disappearing into the still night air.   
  
\--   
  
You felt cowardly, hiding in the corner where the girl would not notice you, but you can't find the right words to say it. What you discovered, and what the girl must find out eventually, but not now. You know she'll catch your scent wafting through the cracked open window sooner or later, permeating through the mask of incense, but for the moment you can stand in the shadow and look at the red brooch in your palm.   
  
The girl hadn't lied. You hadn’t been able to miss it at all. It was something of beauty, with a smooth surface, rich color, and ornate gold engraving. Granted, you weren't very familiar with Yharnam's shopping, but you hadn't seen any remnants of a jewelry workshop in the shell of the town. It must have been a gift, then, or handmade. But the bottom line was that you'd taken it from the coat of a specific woman that was, indeed, dead, and the thought made your mouth dry.   
  
You tucked the jewel into your coat when you heard the tell-tale padding of soft feet across the floor inside, willing your lips to pull themselves into a smile. They twitched in the general direction of the expression, but in the end you just pulled your mask up and waited for her voice.   
  
"Hello, hunter. Still can't find my mum?" Her voice was empty of sleep. She must have woken up a while ago, then, or been waiting for you— or her mother. But only one of you would be coming back. You searched behind the curtain for her face, and caught a disappointed frown. You mirrored it underneath your mask.   
  
"No," you sighed, after a moment of hesitation. The lie felt like it was crawling around in your throat. "I'm afraid I haven't seen her anywhere."   
  
"Yes, okay. I can wait!" She hopped up a bit, her small fingers clutching the windowsill inside. Perhaps the odd tone of your voice had escaped her. "Mum knows I'm very brave, and you're very kind. I'll be a good girl. I promise."   
  
You shook your head and reached up to adjust one of the incense holders burning faithfully on the window. The scent was weaker now, and the smoke was struggling to spread further around the small house. You knew it wasn't going to be enough for the whole night. This girl was in danger. Even still, she was smiling, you could tell. She was beaming at you brighter than the moon above.   
  
"I don't think you can stay here," you frowned. "It's not safe." The other burner seemed quite low as well. You were sure her parents had other incense burners inside, if they'd both left her alone, but you couldn't guarantee that those would last long.   
  
The girl shifted on her feet, definitely disheartened. "Oh, okay. But isn't there something I can do?" She dropped down a bit, then bounced back up on her toes, rattling a few of the bottles with her excitement. "Maybe mum and dad are stuck out there, waiting for me to come to them. What do you think, hunter?"   
  
"There's a safe place for you in the Cathedral Ward," you said. "It's called Oedon Chapel. But, the way there is very dangerous, so I'm going to go and clear it out for you and then come back, alright? Don't leave until I come back," you warned. You watched her silhouette as she nodded.   
  
"Yes okay, thank you very much! I love you almost as much as mum and dad, and grandad!" Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed before nodding to her. She waved at you with her whole arm, watching you until your face disappeared over the ledge, then disappearing back into the house to wait patiently.   
  
—   
  
The small flame inside the incense holder flickered, and then with a final puff of smoke, it went out. The girl walked over to the window, frowning as she climbed onto the windowsill and peered into the burner. Empty. It was supposed to last the whole night, but... this night seemed longer than most. That must have been why mum and dad were away for so long. And the kind hunter had been away for so long, too....   
  
The girl knew they would come back for her. They were just clearing the way, right? So all she had to do was follow behind and she'd go to the nice church with the nice hunter. Maybe mum was waiting for her there!   
  
She fixed the ribbon in her hair and smiled, then unlatched the window and pulled herself up. She inched her way through the collection of empty bottles, her heart thumping in her tiny chest as she tried to keep from rattling the glass. She could hear the pacing of beasts, their throaty snarls, their weapons scraping against the cobblestones in the ledge overlooking the courtyard.   
  
To the left, then. Down the ladder, wading through the sludge in the aqueduct, where the kind hunter had probably gone. It wouldn't be so bad. After all, she remembered that little shortcut, going under the bridge. The hunter would be so proud of her for being safe.   
  
—   
  
The water was at least still mostly water. You supposed it was better than wading through sewage, but given your current situation, the sound of water sloshing around your ankles as you inched forward was incredibly unwelcome.   
  
There was a giant pig in the sewers of Yharnam. “Of course,” you had muttered to yourself when you first saw it at the end of the long tunnel. Why wouldn’t there just be a huge hog in the aqueducts? At least it was the last thing to clear out before you could bring the girl to the safety of the chapel, but it was incredibly intimidating, even from behind. Maybe especially from behind.   
  
The hog snorted and shifted in the water. The great rolls of fat hanging loosely off its bones shook grotesquely as it settled, and you swore you felt the cobblestones beneath your feet shake from the weight. You crept forward, holding the handle of the weapon close. You knew how to tear the beast-hood from a man’s heart from behind, but you really didn’t know how it was about to work with this pig. Had it been a regular farm animal before? Or a man? Did that even matter?   
  
You swallowed a last mouthful of clean air before you stepped closer, into the nearly visible mask of stretch surrounding the hog. You crept through the sewer water, the soft splashes melting into the sound of the pig’s labored breathing, as if just being alive with all the mass and sores was too much for it. Just a little closer, and then you were standing directly behind it.   
  
You wound up your weapon and swung down into the beast’s flesh, smiling when it stumbled and fell onto its stomach. Your expression quickly fell when it started to push itself back up and you did the first thing you thought of; which was, namely, to shove your hand into the nearest opening, grab a fistful of organs, and rip them out.   
  
You stared at your own hand in horror as the hog’s body fell over and disappeared. It was covered in mostly blood, at least, but it took all you had in you not to fall to your knees instead of crouching down and splash a good amount of water over your filthy sleeve. At least it wasn’t sewage.   
  
You wrinkled your nose when you accidentally scooped up a bit of intestines lying in a pile on the floor and nearly smeared that into your coat. You shook it off your fingers, then narrowed your eyes when it landed on something... white. You frowned and reached over, plucking it out of the pile of lumpy remains, turning the fabric over in your hands.   
  
“A ribbon,” you muttered to yourself. It was lacy, and had been off-white, before its wearer had been caught by the hog. You couldn’t think of a single person who would wear such a thing, except for maybe...   
  
But no. It couldn’t possibly be her.   
  
—   
  
The lantern was out, and her window was dark. Your fingers trembled when you rapped your knuckles against the cold glass. There was no response.   
  
The smell of incense was gone, the aroma no longer shielding the house from the beasts roaming around outside. When you dragged your fingers down the metal of the burner, you could feel the last remnants of warmth through your gloves. Your other fist curled around the ragged ribbon in your hands, the leather constricting as it stretched over your knuckles, which were surely several shades lighter than normal.   
  
You supposed it wasn’t your job to protect. Only to hunt. You weren’t sure where Yharnamites went afterwards, but you could only hope she was with her parents somewhere, since you couldn’t be bothered to save the life of one little girl.   
  
You turned away from the window, looking down at the white lace. You rubbed your thumb over one of the bloodstains and swallowed the lump in your throat before tucking the ribbon into your pocket. It settled against the bright red jewel you still kept there, and the small music box.   
  
You pulled the tiny box out, turning it over in your hands. It seemed so large in her hands, when she reached out to give it to you. You opened it, listening to the faint chiming bouncing off the cobblestones and fencing, as it had before you ever came there.     
  
—   
  
The doll only looked at you blankly when you awoke in the dream, as she always did. You couldn’t look her in her glassy eyes as you walked up the hill to the workshop, and she said nothing, just watched you. You paused in the doorway, the white flowers swaying in the breeze, and something possessed you to look to the left.   
  
You frowned and stepped carefully over the small bush, into the gap. There was more behind the shop? You looked around, and it didn’t look much different. There was fencing around it, the same flowers, and a stump with messengers waving their hands around. You cautiously made your way over to the hollowed trunk, which was covered in moss. It’d been there a while, then.   
  
The messengers were whispering again. _Give us_ , they muttered. _Give us please_ . Give what, though? You looked around, as if the ethereal fog drifting along the edges of the dream would have the answer for you. You couldn’t think of a single thing you had that they’d want, but maybe you could just give them your troubles and be done with it.   
  
You fished the bloody ribbon out of your pocket. The spots of red had never gone away, but they’d deepened in color with time, and the parts where it had soaked through dried and roughened under your touch. You swallowed and held it out to the messengers, and when it fell from your fingers into the stump, they seemed to dive down into its depths to retrieve it. There was a small moment before they came back up.   
  
The messengers, it seemed, had decided to give you your troubles back. Their heads were stained red and the biggest of the group had the ribbon over his head. You stared, for a moment, your jaw threatening to hang loose. The messengers just stared back at you, but their whispers were lighter. _Given! Given!_ You could hear them on the breeze, and it took a moment for you to shake your head and dig into your pockets.   
  
“I have something else for you,” you said, dropping the tiny set of miniature urns you’d found, now sure of their real purpose. “Ribbons are better on little girls than silly old messengers.”   
  
They seemed to chatter to themselves happily as they dove down for the pots. The biggest one had the ribbon clutched in its fingers, offering it back up to you. When you took it back, the whites of its tiny hands were stained a soft pink.   
  
“There’s enough blood on both of our hands,” you said as you wiped it off. The messengers just chattered amongst themselves and the urns rattled on their heads as they whispered.   
  
—   
  
You could not believe that you’d run out of blood vials. Well, to be fair, the deeper you crept into the mysteries of Yharnam, the less the creatures and beasts roaming around seemed to carry that worked in your favor. Especially blood vials.   
  
You hadn’t returned to the main city in a while. You weren’t sure of the real passage of time, since the moon was ever high in the sky, but you were sure it could have been weeks since you’d stalked through the cobblestone streets of Central Yharnam. The beasts were ever constant, walking their same paths, but with one swing of your weapon, all of them dropped to the ground, one after the other. It was nearly obscene, how easy it was, but other than that, nothing had changed.   
  
The pounding footsteps of the brick troll by the gate had once filled you with fear, but now it was a simple matter to step forward, strike it down, and search its pockets for the precious vials. Only two on that one, but you knew there was another. It was just down the ladder, by _her_ house, but it really had been forever — there was no reason for your blood to run cold when you looked over and saw the alleyway where you had once stood and promised to keep her safe.   
  
You swallowed and internally berated yourself as you forced yourself to walk over to the open gate. You were acting like a child, honestly. You were a hunter! There was nothing to be afraid of, or guilty over. It was a mistake. Not your fault at all, but...   
  
The lamp was lit.   
  
You stopped and stared at the light flickering behind the curtained window. Something was moving past the curtain, pacing, back and forth. It was too big to be her, but when you caught a flash of white fabric, you surged forward and knocked on the window before you could stop yourself.   
  
“Hello?” You called in, your heartbeat quickening as the person inside stopped and stepped towards the window.   
  
"Oh, a hunter.” The voice was soft, but older. Another girl, different than the one before. “You haven't, by chance... seen my little sister, have you? I told her to look after the house, but she's run off somewhere.”   
  
“A sister,” you parroted, staring at her silhouette. Her hair was straighter, her dress obviously thicker than a nightgown. She nodded, and you could tell by the tilt of her head, she was staring at your silhouette as well.   
  
“She's still quite small, and wears a big white ribbon,” she supplied. Your hand went to your pocket without thinking about it. “Have you seen her out there anywhere?"   
  
You wordlessly pulled the bloody lace out and reached through the open window to offer it up. She hesitated before taking it from you, her fingers brushing against your glove only for a moment. She was shaking, the same as you, and you could understand why.   
  
"Oh, how did this happen... Why would she ever go outside?” Her voice broke as she turned the ribbon over in her hands. You offered nothing more, just stared at her shaking frame. She wiped a few tears from her eyes before forcing out another sentence. “At least... I'll have something to remember her by."   
  
She stood by the windowsill, her thumbs tracing over the dried patches of blood. You watched her hands and softly sighed when she held the ribbon to her chest and let one sob escape. You hadn’t seen a girl wandering around Yharnam when you’d been walking around it before, but there was a chance that she knew there was nothing left of her family.   
  
Perhaps her grandfather, the one the other girl had mentioned, was still out there. When the sun rose, you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay in Yharnam long enough to make sure at least this one girl made it out alive. It was the least you could do for what you couldn’t save.   
  
You turned towards the ladder and had barely picked your foot up to take the first step towards it when the girl started.... giggling? You stared at the open window and watched the shadow of her hands as she pet the ribbon. You could almost see the gleam of a smile in her silhouette.   
  
"What a perfect ribbon, and now it's mine. I can't wait to try it on," she said. “Oh, it's wonderful....” She trailed off as she disappeared into the house. You knocked on the window again, but there was nothing more from her.   
  
You tried not to be bothered, and put the whole thing aside. Maybe she’d be better when you came back for a second run through. You could bring a few things from the dream to help her, and definitely pick up some more incense. You could at least see one person through the night.     
  
—   
  
The window was dark. You frowned, looking around bewilderedly. It had only been a few minutes. Where could she have possibly gone?   
  
The scent of incense was still in the air, so she couldn’t have gone far. It hadn’t been that long. You frowned, pushing yourself up on your toes to over into the dark of the house. You didn’t even see the shadow of a lantern lighting a back room. You dropped down on your heels and your eyes began to trace the courtyard at the right, searching for any sign of her. You didn't even have a name to call her by, and you supposed yelling “little girl” wasn’t going to be that big an incentive to get her to come back.   
  
You looked to the left, and sighed heavily when you saw the sprawling layers of sewer and aqueduct that you now felt morally obligated to explore. If, perhaps, she’d heard of the chapel and gone that way, it wouldn’t be any trouble to catch up to her. You stepped to the ladder and glanced down, then froze.   
  
The troll at the bottom was mumbling to himself, and there was a body laying on the cobblestones next to him. The dress of the girl was bloody, her limbs sticking out awkwardly, and a pale ribbon stood out against her yellow hair. The ogre shifted on his feet, glancing over at her before turning to face the door again.   
  
“So cold, dear sister,” you could hear it say. You blinked at her form and then slowly descended the ladder. On autopilot, you watched the ogre and waited for it to swing its branch at you.   
  
“It’s all your fault!” It yelled. You’d never heard any of them talk before, but perhaps this was your own mind. With one bullet, the troll fell to his knees and you ended his life, but you didn’t even stop to search its pockets.   
  
Your feet dragged you over to the girl’s body. Blood had seeped into the cracks of the cobblestones, and the lamplight was reflected in where it had pooled together. You gently sat down beside her, peeling your gloves off and taking the clean white ribbon from her hair with your bare fingers. You turned it over in your hands, studying it carefully. She’d cleaned and re-tied it with care, and you could feel the softness in it. You put it back in your pocket, putting your gloves back on to turn the girl over.   
  
Her eyes stared up at the moon, until you gently closed them. She’d hit her head and you could tell by the bruising and awkward angle of her neck that she’d snapped it when she fell. You didn’t know where you could even bury her, so you just held her and tried to keep your cheeks dry.   
  
You’d been to late to save her. You’d been too late to save any of them. Maybe if you had just left well enough alone, or been faster, or any number of things, you could have saved one little girl. You touched your forehead to the girl’s and hated that it was still warm, however fast that was fading. Their father had been right after all.   
  
You’d be one of them, sooner or later. 


End file.
